One shot
by xginny
Summary: Not for the faint of heart. Ginny is 22 years old, but with black hair, and emerald green eyes. She is the second spawn of Tom Riddle, and wants revenge on her brother. RG


"One shot"

An endearing allure of mist hovered just above the wet, gritty streets of the small countryside. Luminous vines smelling of a thick, indescribable odor curled around the once white picket fences. Shameful dark clouds stained the sky, and brought with it a light rain of acid. Yet through the fog, a figure walked forward.

The clap of soggy boot to cement echoed lightly through the lulled streets. House after house of neatly cut grass, perfectly coloured flowers bunched underneath the windowsills, and toys of children lying forgotten near the front steps. _Such a quiet little town, and such a pity,_ he scorned, playfully.

She was a young woman of twenty-two, and built with a tall, slender body. But she didn't hold the features her mother had born her to bear. With two strikingly emerald coloured eyes, and long, thickly curled black hair spilling down past her thin shoulders, the girl didn't match anything with the freckles that were quickly fading from her now pale cheeks. Her name?

_Names are but ploys used in a game. You'll never need your name anymore, my dear Virginia. You belong to me, now, don't you remember?_ That same low, smooth voice pushed all of her previous thoughts away. It always proved to fascinate Ginny in ways she'd never had dreamed of.

It started to rain harder. As if the heavens above sensed this creature, spawned for the second time, under a nameless darkness was being drawn to a family.

The cold, icy water slid through Ginny's thin, black dress, creating a heavy sodden cloak to weigh at her shoulders. Her features were famished, over the many grueling years of training. She was eaten down to her last scrap of energy, all for one purpose. Serving Him in every way possible.

Lightning cracked across the skies, with a whip like sound. A gust of wind encircled the young woman; flicking her robes backward in a desperate attempt to flaunt her movements, spare the family time—

_Keep moving._

Ginny twitched. Her bare, right soaked forearm protruded from her sleeve. A sickeningly black, and blue hued cut ran up the length of her main vein, in the shape of a serpent. The acid like rain burned and scorned her cuts, which were also violently created just below the beginnings of her left shoulder, and up the side of her neck, and also scorned piteously by the inside of her right thigh.

_You are mine;_ she could hear those same three words echoing through her subconscious—the only piece of her soul left that he hadn't succeeded in consuming. _You are **mine**,_ he had grunted, as he tore at her cartilage artfully, yet with the accompanying sounds of an animal.

"Hello there." Ginny had felt her cold lips move, but the hollow voice that slithered up from the depths of her throat wasn't hers. She stood before a cream coloured house, just in front of the neatly positioned picket fence, on the front lawn. Her heart quickened, and she snapped her wand to attention from the strap underneath her thin, saturated dress on her hip. The woman could vaguely remember, from an old file battered and beaten in her log of memories, which her old school wand had been of a light oak. Now looking down at the fourteen-inch piece of powerful matter, it was a smooth bark of flawless ebony.

Somewhere off in the distance, a crow cried out into the gathering darkness. Yet as Ginny drew closer toward the house, and across the few scattered stones lining her way toward the front steps, the bird's cry was abruptly cut off, filling the streets with absolute silence. _Ah, perfect._ She breathed in sharply, once underneath the overhang of the porch, her high heel shoes causing the old wood to groan.

It was an odd picture; the pitifully thin, innocently looking young girl clad in all black, and wand drawn, behind her back. The menacing clouds overhead broke entirely, hard, pelting rain clashing to the ground in sheets. The moon was no longer in sight.

_Do it, now. Finish it, as he had. Do unto him what he did to you. Punish him, Virginia. My Virginia,_ he hissed, merely a breath of icy air next to her ear, teasing the black strand of hair that should have been another colour. He sounded commanding, and Ginny obeyed his every word.

A knock on the redwood door was what she offered the owner inside. "Ron?" Silence. Ginny gripped His wand tightly, a dull throb beginning to encircle her senses. It was a feeling so formidable in the utter irony of it all, because this creature shouldn't have a heart to pump blood, with in the first place. Her internal organs were too lowly to even classify in working order.

_"Ron?"_ Her voice, stirred from within by her Master, cracked slightly when she intended to raise it over the noise of the storm. A light somewhere inside flickered on, and Ginny instantly heard a key being grappled about in its lock before the front door flew open.

Ronald Weasley was now twenty-three years old, a good few inches taller than she was, granted, with the same familiar freckles painted across the bride of his identical nose, and boyishly long, flaming red hair just over his soft blue eyes. But he didn't wear the usual expression of happiness when seeing his sister. He looked entirely, and sickeningly shocked out of his skin, because his younger sister, only daughter in the Weasley family, had been dead for over two years.

"G-Ginny? What in the _bleeding hell—"_ He moved forward as if to hold this undeniable form of what his sister used to be, but Ginny flinched, pulling away from his outstretched arm.

"Oh, she's dead. Virginia Weasley is _dead,_ but oh so glad to be able to get one last chance with her older brother. Her _favourite_ brother." Her detached green eyes darkened as a scowl Malfoy used to wear crossed her face. "You think you can loose me so _easily,_ Ron? _Fuck _that plan."

Ron barely looked as if he had registered anything. "B-But… What're you…"

Ginny scoffed, and slammed him by the shoulders up against the muddy wall of his small house. "Just so easy, wasn't it? For you to simply forget all of the confusion induced by yours truly, in your seventh year. And you went ahead and married Hermione Granger, the smartest fucking witch in the school, while you knew—" Her grasp tightened. "While you _knew_ I fucking _loved_ you, Ron! What do you say to _that?"_ His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, eyes wide with pain, and utter horror.

"No," his youngest sister whispered in his ear. She pressed the length of herself up against his body, the rainwater seeping through his sweater and pants. Ron bit his bottom lip, moving as if to squirm away, but Ginny held him fast, against her wet figure. He groaned, softly, and blinked back tears. "Oh, don't cry, dear, sweet brother of mine. Little Ginny will make everything—" She held her wand steadily, and inclined her head forward, capturing Ron's bottom lip in a hard, biting kiss. Drawing an easy flow of warm blood from his mouth, the blood that had long ago filled her veins, she pressed His wand against her brother's neck, hard.

"—all right." With a flash of green light that brightened up her own eyes and pale cheeks, Ron's body twitched, before hitting the puddle of water on the porch with a dull _splash._ Ginny bent down, her Master's presence pulsating through her every nook and cranny of her being.

The girl smiled, a sadistic smirk, accompanied by the newly red blood that stained her white teeth, and rouged lips. Ron's blood. Her older brother's blood. _Her_ blood.

_You've done well, Virginia. Now say your goodbyes, we have more work to do._ Ginny nodded shortly, before kneeling down. She hitched the black dress that clung to her shapely hips up just over her thighs, and straddling Ron's dead corpse, reached behind to bring his head up forward. Drinking one last, bitterly sweet and bloody kiss from his lips, she whispered hoarsely.

"Nighty night, dear Ronniekins."

*fin


End file.
